Why Edgar Loves Me The Most
FROM HIM: Currently Edgar seems to have a mild preference towards me.
We have reversed the stereotypical roles in our family in the name of feminism.
I am the stay at home dad – assumed to be playing angry birds in my pants whilst Edgar learns to play with the stuff under the sink.
Mum is the main earner – assumed to be wilfully neglecting her child out of spite and also married to a lazy workshy twat.
My work is undervalued and unnoticed.
Mum’s work pays for the house and anything nice.
Any money I earn is probably attributed to washing up liquid, bin bags and arse wipes.
Anyone with a bit of common sense can work out that the only reason Edgar has a mild preference towards me is because I am there more.
Except babies don’t work to common sense.
I believe that it dates back to the day we left him with his granddad.
I won’t say which one, because I know he reads this, but let’s just say it’s the bald one.
We HAD to look at a caravan. So as is our way, we scoured ebay every night until we found a heap of shit we would never actually buy, somewhere near the grandparents we were visiting, just so we could satiate some of the intense caravan hunger we’d built up since having said to each other once, half pissed, apropos of nothing, ‘shall we get a caravan?’
We left Edgar for one hour.
He cried for one hour.
When we came back, I happened to be the first one to walk through the door and Edgar could not have been happier to see me.
I had saved him.
Not from anything much, just from watching the motor racing with his granddad.
But I had saved him.
Not his mum, who was only a step behind me.
Edgar did not have any specific allegiances before that day.
But from that day forward, I was the one who could save him from motor racing.
I too think motor racing is rubbish and I have obviously passed this onto my son genetically.
Cars going round and round and round – yawn.
How was the anonymous hairless granddad supposed to know that babies don’t like motor racing much?
They DO like – being bounced up and down and cuddled and sung to and smiled at – not Lewis Hamilton and Ferrari.
So I don’t blame him.
And neither does Edgar.
He blames his mum.
And he still does.
And he will forever.
You might think I’m wrong and that I’ve isolated a single incident from months ago that is totally unrelated.
But he doesn’t prefer me over others, he only prefers me over his mum.
Edgar’s list of favourites, in order of preference:
- Anyone else.
- His mum.
So it can’t be about volume of time spent with him, otherwise ‘anyone else’ would not be his first preference.
It’s because of the caravan incident.
And in the future, if he ever gets confused as to why he just can’t abide his mum’s affections, I won’t tell him that every boy since the dawn of time has scorned their mum’s affection eventually in the same way.
I will tell him of the day his mum let him down.
The day she abandoned him.
The day I saved him.
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